The Downward Spiral Is A Solo Ride.

It’s been a long long week, with plenty of drama and it’s not quite over yet.

I know to expect drama in the weeks ramping up to Opening Night (14 days from now. I think I just internally puked again.) And yet, since it’s been four long years since my last play, I approach the drama with a dead eyed sense of inevitability. There’s a huge metaphorical car wreck coming straight at me, and I’m too tired to drag myself out of the way. I just watch it hurtling towards me and say more weight no, I say hurry up, and get it over with.

Here are a random assortment of excuses I’ve heard in the past few weeks or so:

I had food poisoning
My Mom booked me the wrong day to come home
I have to work
I left it at home
I don’t have any money
I have a screening
I have houseguests
I’m out of town
I couldn’t switch shifts
My cell wasn’t working
I didn’t get your email
My brain hurts
My back hurts
I’m on Valium
My car broke down
I wrote down the wrong day
I got stuck in traffic
I forgot I was supposed to call you
I cannot do this anymore (no, that last one was not said by me.)

I move heaven and earth to make this play happen. That’s expected of me, because I’m the playwright / producer and that’s what I should do. I go above and beyond the call of duty, everything from writing actor bios in the proper format to sock puppet surgery, to paper mache mask making (that one is currently in my living room freaking out my roommates) because it’s easier to do it myself than to berating others into doing it right.

I understand and accept that. People are people, and more often than not don’t have their eye on the bigger picture like I do.

But yesterday I realized that people take me for granted. CONGRATULATIONS! WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF JAW DROPPING REALIZATIONS.

That my giving of my standard 120 percent is not just accepted by others, but EXPECTED. Who’s gonna clean up this mess? Amy The Writer’ll do it, she does everything. Mikey likes everything, Amy The Writer’ll take over and steer the ship, because I don’t feel like helping, or gosh, darn it, I WANT to help, but I just went in for surgery.

I don’t go in for surgery. I don’t get stuck in traffic either, because I’m the Queen of Side Streets. I don’t go out of town, I don’t forget things, I don’t get sick, I move whatever commitments I have around in order to pull my weight, which invariably becomes three times my weight because someone else has to take that extra shift at work because they don’t have any money in their bank account.

I’m pulling three times my weight while simultaneously holding down a temp job that I’m desperately trying to make permanent, and not letting one interfere with the other. I lost my cell phone, got a replacement within a week, and still managed to keep in touch with everyone. I don’t wanna hear about how your sewing machine is missing a bobbin, I want you to pull your fucking weight, and find a way to sew some costumes.

This is turning into ugly venting. I haven’t even mentioned anything remotely having to do with God (that will be coming in a later post.) Of course everything will work itself out, it always does. Of course I will over-extend myself, and eventually, the Facial Tension That Has Frozen My Face will melt away.

And everyone will pat me on the shoulder and say Good Job and Great Work! And Aren’t You Proud? And Isn’t It Worth It?

And I can’t answer that last one.

So here’s a random sampling of the things that are getting me through these difficult days:

Mountain Dew.







Rivers and Rivers of the stuff.










The Gym. I could kick your ass before this Downward Spiral started. I can kick your ass in half the time now. Seriously. None of you have anything on my abs. My abs crunch everyone else in my Bodyworks class and spits them out before 8am.










H2O Plus Sea Marine Revitalizing Shampoo and Conditioner.

This stuff is the absolute bomb. I found it on the Disney Cruise I took back in February (where I discovered my other secret love, Don Julio Tequila.) I squirreled it away in my suitcase and demanded that the porter give me brand new bottles every day. Awesome Sister Agatha got me more of it for my birthday in March, as well as a gift pack of other H2O products that I need to make a more concentrated effort to use. But this stuff works great with my hair, and really does smell marine like, which make me remember the cruise.



Ahhhhh, the cruise. I miss the cruise right now.

Agatha and I are going on a three day cruise in September after the play closes. I dream about that future cruise, I really do. A potential booze soaked sister bonding fest. She doesn’t like tequila. Just means more for me.

If I can ever get there.

Seriously, can I just order one Big Strong Guy to hold me, for like, two hours or something? Please? Pretty please?